Love or Sympathy
by cheinsaw
Summary: All the splendor money could buy, and then some, surrounds her. And yet. She is hungry. (Remilia/Patchouli, blood drinking.)


The first time, she wakes up hungry.

She's in her coffin, on her bed, in her mansion. All the splendor money could buy, and then some, surrounds her. And yet. She is hungry. It's something she'd been trying to ignore, these past few days, so as not to worry Patchouli or Flandre. She supposes she'd wanted to deny it to herself as well. But she's woken up with something clawing inside her stomach, and she can't ignore it much longer.

* * *

"Patchy," she says, staggering into the library.

"Remi," Patchouli replies, then sets her book down abruptly when she sees Remilia's weakened state. "Is there something wrong?"

Nothing's wrong. Everything's wrong. She's starving. There's no food around. Patchouli might not understand, because a magician of her kind is sustained by the diligent care of the books that house her soul. Remilia is different. Remilia needs fresh blood.

"I—" Remilia starts, but is quickly interrupted by the low gurgle in her stomach. "Excuse me."

"When was the last time you fed?" Patchouli asks.

She can't remember. A few days? A week? Maybe more. But the villages in the area are starting to get suspicious of pretty girls with hazy memories and teeth marks on their necks, and of grown men found days later with their bodies fully drained. She can't risk it, unless she wants to fight off more vampire hunters. And with how she is right now, she wouldn't stand a chance.

The look on Remilia's face must give it away, because Patchouli just shakes her head. "Never mind. What about your sister?"

"Flan... took the last of our supplies yesterday morning. The villagers are starting to notice the patterns in disappearances. I can't... alter any more fates..."

"Very well. There's no question that it is time to move again. Should I prepare the circle?"

"Patchy, no, not on your own, you can't move all—all this," Remilia gestures, spreading her arms wide to indicate the mansion's size. "Allow me to help."

"In your current state?"

"And what about yours?"

"Remi," Patchouli says quietly. Then, after a long pause. "Will my blood do?"

Will it? It's blood. Patchouli isn't human, has never been human. It probably won't be nourishing. She's hungry. Who knows how long it will keep Remilia going? What if she hurts the already frail, sickly Patchouli?

She's _hungry_.

"We can try," she says. "If you don't mind."

Patchouli's expression is set. "If it will hold you over until we can move."

Remilia crosses the distance between them and settles into Patchouli's lap. Patchouli's skin is warm, smelling slightly of ink and tea and old paper and comfort. She watches as Patchouli silently unbuttons the front of her dress to tug it away from her shoulder, brushing her hair back.

Remilia's done this enough times with humans that it's easy. Natural, even. But with her very nonhuman best friend, she's at a loss. It's almost as if she's forgotten her instincts. For a long moment, she doesn't even know what to do.

"Remi," Patchouli says calmly. Her voice grounds Remilia, bringing her back. "Please go ahead." Her arms curve around Remilia's waist, holding her close. "You will not hurt me, I'm sure."

Remilia would like to savor this, would like to press her face against Patchouli's shoulder and breathe in her scent for just a bit longer. But she doesn't have that luxury. Not right now. Tentatively, she begins running her tongue along Patchouli's exposed neck.

"What are you doing?"

She stops. "Is it not working on you?"

"Is something supposed to happen?"

"This would numb a human's skin on contact."

"I am not a human."

"Then it could hurt—"

"_Remi_." Patchouli moves her hand up to gently stroke one of Remilia's wings. "Please go ahead."

She winces when Remilia's fangs pierce her skin, but doesn't complain or make any noise. Remilia barely even notices, dizzy from the taste of blood in her mouth. It's sweeter than a human's, rich with magic. She sucks hungrily from the wound she's made, her eyes closed, and focuses solely on how wonderful it tastes.

It isn't long before Remilia's had her fill. She's always been a bit of a lightweight, after all. Slowly, she stops sucking and instead focuses on lapping up the already-spilled blood on Patchouli's neck and shoulder. She can feel it dribbling down her chin to soak the collar of her dress, but another red-stained outfit is the least of her concerns. As the flow of blood finally trickles down to nothing, and the wound on Patchouli's neck begins to clot, Remilia feels a heavy warmth overtaking her. For the first time in a long while, she feels satisfied.

And then she notices Patchouli's shaking.

"Patchy?" she asks, alarmed.

"I'm fine..."

"Did I drink too much?"

Patchouli shakes her head, her closed eyes fluttering. "I can be drained of all my blood and survive. Possibly. I'm just a little... dizzy..."

Remilia flicks her wings. "Patchy," she says again. She gently tugs Patchouli's dress back up so it covers her shoulder. Patchouli doesn't respond, just slumps forward against Remilia, her arms still locked around Remilia's waist.

"Well," Remilia murmurs. She pulls back, supporting Patchouli as best as she can with her own small frame. Slowly, she guides Patchouli down onto the soft red plush of the library carpet, settling her head on Patchouli's chest. Her heartbeat is just as strong as usual. Good. She's probably just tired, then.

Remilia lets her own eyes close, the rhythm of Patchouli's pulse lulling her to sleep. A rest might do her some good too. Before she drifts off, she feels Patchouli's hands move up to hold her, and it makes her heart feel warm.

* * *

They move the mansion the next evening.

Being a vampire, Remilia has always been nocturnal, and it took almost no effort for Patchouli to adjust to her habits. When Remilia wakes up, refreshed and feeling healthier than ever, Patchouli is waiting by her bedside. "You're awake."

"Good evening." She smiles, straightening herself up. "Are you well enough to start?"

"I believe so."

"Could you handle the preparations? I'll go retrieve my sister." As she speaks, Remilia hoists herself out of bed, landing on the floor with a soft thump.

"Remi," Patchouli says. "I'd like to talk to you about yesterday. Before we move anywhere."

After a short rest and a few cups of tea, Patchouli had made a quick recovery. But aside from confirming that Remilia's hunger was satiated, at least for the moment, they hadn't spoken of what had happened for the rest of the day.

"What of it?"

Patchouli brushes her hair behind her ear, a small nervous habit. "As I'm sure you're aware, I maintain a collection of vampire lore in my library."

"Yes."

"Are you familiar with the concept of keeping human familiars?"

Remilia runs her teeth over her lip in concentration. "I have considered it. But you know how high my standards are, especially for humans."

"I am proposing that you use me in that way. If necessary."

She isn't sure if she heard right. "Excuse me?"

"I told you, I can be completely exsanguinated and survive. In case we run into another, ah, shortage, you're welcome to drink from me."

"Are you not worried about yourself?"

"Remi," Patchouli says quietly. "I'll be fine."

"Then... then I accept," Remilia says slowly, faltering only for a second.

Patchouli nods, moving to cradle one of Remilia's hands in her own. "Of course." They stand like that for a moment, silent in each other's company. Then Patchouli's eyes close, and she gives a small smile, and says, "Go retrieve Flandre. I'll begin the circle."

Remilia smiles back, gently squeezing Patchouli's hand. "Thank you. Patchy." _For everything_, she means.


End file.
